Then They Came
by DevvieBunny
Summary: A short story about a Vulcan girl.


Then They Came

The sand stung Satumi's hand as she wafted back to consciousness. Every sound reverberated in her head, cascading echoes over each other, slowly becoming clearer as reality forced itself towards her. It was chorused by the tapping of the jacket collar on the back of her neck, an insistent child vying for her to wake.

She was on her side, head and body half buried in the ground as the collected dirt caught by the wind made an incline up her back. An arm was pinned under her body, numb from the weight it had been supporting since she had landed here.

Satumi opened the one un-entrenched eye and surveyed the landscape in her immediate vision. Her house lay a few meters from her feet, the metal siding leaning at precarious angles to the slowly disappearing frame. Flames engulfed the structure, burning on pieces of her home where it appeared no fire should be able to tread. The last eight years of her life were floating up to the sky as embers and returning as leaves of soot.

Gunfire could be heard in the distance, punctuating the dull silence that usually pervaded the colony on evenings such as these. That meant there were still others. There was still hope.

With a great heave, she rolled onto her back, wincing as her efforts were met with a sharp pain in her side. She waited for a bit, staring at the sky and its dwindling light. Dark would be coming soon.

She moved her hand to the protesting side, finding a wound, covered in a grimy mix of blood and dust. There was no way to tell more, as every effort to lift herself for a glance gave the injury more reason scream. After a few aborted attempts to see it, she gave up, simply gripping the torn flesh with one hand.

Her grandfather had tried to teach her how to control the pain. She was Vulcan, after all. But little Satumi would not listen. She was too young and far more interested in playing with the Human children. She had told him that she could act Vulcan later.

She wished she could act Vulcan now.

Desperately, she grasped for the shards of memories she still possessed, trying to put his advice together. Just enough of a temporary suture to pull her through.

"The pain is all in your mind. It does not exist. That which does not exist cannot influence you. It is only logical. Focus on this and you can will it away, drive it from your mind."

"Only logical..." The words repeated in her mind, amplifying with each iteration. She cauterized her wound with the repeating phrase, and gave every bit of her remaining strength to the ascent.

Satumi lurched up and over, to a sitting position, nearly losing consciousness as the fire spread from her side. Even her gums began to whine in protest.

From here, she could see into the distance some ways, the acrid smoke covering everything in a surrealistic haze.

In one direction there was the playground. Though it had been charred, it was still standing for the most part. The wooden bench in the park where her foster parents had thrown twelfth birthday last year was in pieces. Each section was falling to the flames, joining her house in a fiery race to oblivion.

The slide was also well-off, unconcerned with its burnt companions, waiting for a child to run up to play.

The small metal enclosure under it fared just as well. It was entirely intact, the little door on the side flapping in the sand-filled wind.

In the other direction she could see them, but for the time at least, they did not see her. The haphazard array of devices that stuck out of their bodies made their silhouettes horrifyingly unique.

It was clear now who her aggressors were. There was no doubt they would be coming for her soon. They would be coming to make her one of them.

Panic steeled her. She threw her arm out like an anchor and dragged her body along the dirt. Each pull sent waves of pain out of the injury as it rebelled against even the most minor of adjustments. She slowed when her vision began to swim, and started again when she regained her hold.

Pulling herself to the door of the enclosure she gripped part of the inside frame like a handle and pulled herself into it. The bent metal floor scraped her back as she hoisted her legs into the small box.

The room under the slide was not more than a cubic meter in size. It had been constructed as a house or hiding place for children a few years younger than her. She had used it once herself, years ago, in a game that she could not remember now.

The door creaked as it swung on its hinges, shutting her into a dark cave. She hoped that it would not become her coffin.

Tiny pinpricks of light filtered in and scattered, giving her little light with which to see by. Not that there was much worth seeing. Her tattered form and the rusty metal box offered little worth looking at.

Satumi pulled her hand away from her side and placed it on the floor. Her palm met a warm, sticky residue, which she did not need to see to identify.

The bleeding was far worse than she had thought. A pool of blood had started to form around her, and was most likely spilling into the playground. If the injury was not treated properly, and soon, she would not make another few hours.

With a heavy set of tugs on the cuff, her sleeve ripped, giving her a half-arm's length of cloth. It was not as much as she had hoped. Her position would not allow a secure grip of the remaining rags dangling from her shoulder.

At first, she tried to fold it, but there was little dexterity left in her fingers. Forced to ball it up as well as she was able, she pressed it against the wound with all of her might. She fought not to scream, but high-pitched whimpers surreptitiously defied her attempts at control.

She reached down with a single finger and touched the floor again. The blood had gone cold, and did not seem to be draining. For whatever time was left, she was going to be living it in this wet hell.

Someone stepped into the playground, the sound of the sand giving way belied their position and intention. The steps were uniform, slow and methodical. She froze, not in an attempt to be quiet, but in sheer terror. Her body would not have let her make a noise if she had wanted.

The steps moved away, walking in the direction of her house. Her limbs were locked, unable to move until the plodding had disappeared altogether.

Night was here, the small bit of light she had fell by degrees to the darkness. Normally, on a night such as this, she would be sitting out on the porch, tossing stones or playing tag with the other children in the neighborhood. At the very least, she would be using this playground for its intended purpose.

A voice interrupted her wanton wishing, causing her to jerk slightly and then suffer the pain as her side reminded her of its current state. The voice was one she recognized.

It was her grandfather, talking low and incoherently, like he was chatting beside a fireplace several rooms away. Satumi arched her neck, trying to hear the words, but it mumbled on, giving her advice that she could not understand.

She dropped her head back down, connecting her chin to her neck. She realized it now. There was no voice. The fluid loss had reached a point where she was being dragged into a delirium. Death was close to her, its icy breath forcing shivers out of her aching muscles.

Bundling herself tighter, she clinched the soaked jacket to her torso, like it would be able to hold any heat. There were only two choices for her: Stay here and die or leave and be captured.

Her grandfather would have told her to weigh the options and think logically. One could always discern the best choice if the proper care and effort were applied.

If she stayed here, only a slow death waited for her. The cold blood around her told her as much. She did not want a playground on a back-wash colony world to be her grave.

It was not a matter of wanting. She _would not_ die here.

With that ultimatum, her choice became clear. She could live.

Satumi dropped the rag, and with a fist, hit the door with a swift rap. It popped open, spilling her out into the sand like a broken doll.

She lifted her head, looking out across the blackened remains of her former life. The fires were lesser now, but they burned more brightly in the dark, casting a series of blue, green and red hues over everything.

There they were, side by side like toy soldiers. The three of them stood together, concentrating on the metal device they were facing. Their forms were that of living things, people that once had feelings, thoughts and dreams. Now, they were but parodies of those creatures. They were marionettes of the machines that consumed them, putting on a play that one might confuse for sentience.

Satumi opened her mouth to yell at them, but nothing came forth. Whether from fear or weakness no utterance could take form. Her lips mimed the words, but her voice turned traitor.

Grabbing a stone from the sand, she held it in the air. Her hand made a shoddy catapult that listed from side to side as she vainly set up her shot and let loose.

The rock bounced between their legs, striking the tall metal piece of equipment. They turned as a group, with a dispassionate calmness that chilled her like no other.

Then they came.

She dropped herself back to the dirt and waited. There was no going back now. Soon she would be one of them, but she would be alive. Death had been cheated for now.

One of them leaned down to her, pausing for a beat to do an examination. She closed her eyes as tightly as she could. She did not want to see the vision of her future self that was written on his face.

The tubes did not hurt as much as she had imagined, just giving a brief sting before retracting. She tried to remain collected, accepting the inevitable as every inch of her body was numbed in succession.

The fear left as well, vaporizing and floating away with everything else. All was lost to her now.

As her last act of sentience, she could not help but smile in self-satisfaction. If her grandfather were here, he would have been so proud of her. She was sure of it. She'd done exactly as he would have wanted. She calculated the odds, weighed the options and reached the most equitable solution.

It was, after all, only logical.


End file.
